A Royal Flush

My mother-in-law, Evie, was cleaning out her refrigerator several years back and came upon an old jar of pickles. Personally, I think pickles last as long as nuclear waste, but Evie decided to flush them down the toilet, rationalizing that the pickle shape resembles the usual waste product. With timing that was just a little too coincidental, her condo neighbor ran out her door exclaiming that her toilet was spontaneously overflowing.  Evie said something like, "Oh, I wonder how that happened," all the while thinking, 'Kosher Dills.'

The following Christmas my kids decided to give Gramma Evie some jars of pickles and used the following labels:

(One jar was filled with those miniature cocktail pickles) 
"GRAMMA'S BEST FLUSHABLE PICKLES"

(Another jar held a humongous, fat, 10 inch long pickle from a deli) 
"GRAMMA'S BEST GIANT DELI PICKLES---DO NOT FLUSH"
©12/2012  Jana B Patrick,  janasrandomwriting.blogspot.com                                                     MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVIE!

Big Apple Meets the Gals from Minne-Apple

One of my Mom's favorite things to do was an annual October trip to New York with her friends and cousin. As I used to go to New York on business, I often had the pleasure of joining them on some of their outings.

Back in the hotel after a day of shopping, cousin Joni shrugged out of her warm, furry wrap and recalled a coat she had seen that she really wanted. "I just can't buy it, I've got this beaver coat Jim gave me, but I DO like that other one so much." Mom's friend Gloria said, "Joni! You're in New York! Just go down on the street and sell your beaver!"

Gloria used to tie an old pair of pantyhose around her waist, put her money in one of the legs, then tucked her stash safely under her trousers. Mom, walking down to the subway behind her nearly wet her pants laughing when she saw that Gloria's tail had come teasingly free and was wagging back and forth begging to be taken.

My son Ryan and I were in New York and joined the group for dinner. The ladies were fascinated by an old guy dating a young chick at the table behind us and went so far as getting out the compact mirrors to watch the goings on. I hope the couple's real story was half as fascinating as the one the ladies were conjecturing. 
There's nothing quite like going to New York and tipping a few with your Mom--here's to you, Jackie!
 ©12/2012  Jana B Patrick,  janasrandomwriting.blogspot.com

Gloria!

Jackie, Gloria, Marlene and Joni, 2000

 Joni and Jackie with New York's finest

It Must Have Been His Dancing

My parents met on a blind date in 1952. My Dad took one look as Jackie arrived at the University of Minnesota fraternity house, ran upstairs, did a little 'YES!!!' dance, bounded back down and got 60 years of romance started.

This dating tip worked for him:  (Don't try it. Not recommended.)  My Dad raised grand champion Aberdeen Angus steers as a teen, and for county fair competitions, the animals were brushed to a lustrous, ebony shine.  On one of my parent's first dates, he said, "Oh, Jackie, your hair is as black as an Aberdeen Angus!"  ...And she went out with him again... 
(Technically, I should not exist.)
©12/2012  Jana B Patrick

He misses you lots, Mom!

P.S. I remember when I was growing up, my parents would go out at night, and I would wait up until the wee hours, watching out the window until they came back, safe, home again.  If I had known then that they would have nearly 60 years together, I could have got a lot more sleep.

Jackie: September 1931-December 2012

Jackie Was the Gift to All Who Knew Her

Very sadly my mom passed away Monday.  She was a dear, sweet woman that everyone loved. I wrote the following blog in honor of her 80th birthday last year. She was one of my faithful blog followers, always giving the gift of her attentiveness to her children and grandchildren, great grandchildren, relatives and friends.

Back in the 1960's my debonair, bachelor uncle, Harry, would send festive boxes from Woodward and Lothrop Department Store in Washington, DC every year on my mother's birthday.  The package arrival would get all seven of us kids into a frenzy until the unwrapping of that year's new hat.  Some had mink trim, one sported pheasant feathers, all were so sophisticated, some so 'Jackie.'

As with any fashion, the era of hats waned.  Weren't we surprised when the boxes in the 1970's arrived with...wigs!  Auburn, black, frosted, short, long, shaggy.  My Mom loved them--Suddenly, she didn't have to wash or set her hair--just stretch on that wig and voila!  One the 'Harry' wigs was so tight, she had to take two Tylenol every four hours.  It surely is better to look good than to feel good!

The 1980's ushered in decades of jewelry as Harry's gift of choice.  Now that NEVER goes out of style!
©9/2011  Jana B Patrick

Mom, you will be missed.

The Stars at Night are Big and Bright

The Stars at Night are Big and Bright...and boring.  Lauren and I went stargazing in Arizona with about twenty others who had nothing better to do.  
Two amateur astronomers brought big, hulking telescopes for which Galileo might have bartered his three offspring. Believe me, these 'scopes were WELL loved babies.  The two guys excitedly programmed them to see each astral treat with TV-like remote controls. (Cheaters). We expected to see the fiery bits of carbon up close and personal. No. Instead, they still looked like a bunch of little pinpricks--just lots more of them. I politely asked the astronomer geeks how they got so into this. (And they were REALLY into it).  Both had become obsessed at about age ten causing me to conjecture that stellar addiction MUST occur before puberty or not at all. I recalled how badly I had wanted a telescope at that age.  Oh, how fortunate that letter to Santa never made it to the star-studded North Pole.
©10/2012  Jana B Patrick

Thanksgiving Guest

Our front door is all glass and you can imagine my surprise when I turned around the corner and saw a GIANT, fat turkey standing at the front door.  No, I didn't take a picture, (drat)  instead I called our catatonic, perennially somnolent little doggie to the door to see what he would do. He actually barked.  He scared the turkey a total of about five feet away.  Tom turkey and friends hung out in the yard awhile discussing how to get inside.  They had heard of previous generations being the Guests of Honor at November gatherings and wanted a piece of the action.  As far as I was concerned, they were not welcome unless they came frozen, featherless, headless and dead.
©11/2012  Jana B Patrick

Happy Thanksgiving.  Gobble, gobble.

Dizzy! I'm So Dizzy, My Head is Spinnin'

I think that someone gave the USA a frontal lobotomy when we were napping. Perhaps it was a Groupon deal. Both hemispheres of our collective brains seem polar and permanently divided. Both sides of the gray matter are spinning at vortex speed creating doubt and subterfuge about the actions or perceived actions of it's mirror image. Both sides need psychiatric help. With a co-pay of just $938 billion, help is SOON available from Big Brother! Unfortunately, the lobotomy makes reading the 2300 page health care program with accompanying 13,000 pages of regulations a bit tricky. 

©11/13/2012  Jana B. Patrick,  http://janasrandomwriting.blogspot.com/